


Cinnamon Infatuation

by zemira



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Christmas Fluff? Kind of, Humor, M/M, No amount of brushing can save you, Poor Reo I'm so so sorry you have to deal with this, The return of noobish Akashi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, failing at flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zemira/pseuds/zemira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While one Akashi Seijuro is friends with Furihata, the other is infatuated with him. So when his former teammate Reo, who now owns a bakery, holds a class that the object of his affections is taking, Akashi decides this is finally his chance to get closer to the one he has watched through his brother’s eyes for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinnamon Infatuation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breedafool (YEHFICSMAN)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YEHFICSMAN/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I’m not _too_ late.
> 
> Not really a SS since I don’t do those… but I dedicate this to Bree since she’s been waiting for this to be written ever since I came up with this plot many mannnyyy months ago. Poor fic just kept getting knocked down.

Was it possible to be jealous of yourself?

Akashi Seijuro was certainly feeling that way. When it came to everything, he was the one always at the top, the one to always obtain what he wanted, the one who came out first in everything, won at every challenge, and who had never once had to sweat the competition.

Until now. And this time the competition was his other facet, his  _brother_ , if he had to bestow a name on him. Though truthfully he was the one who was the other self while his brother was the genuine version of him.

Yes, Akashi Seijuro was jealous of his other personality, for that part of him possessed something he didn’t. He knew how that acquisition had transpired, and the slow build of the bond, but it still wasn’t fair. Not when he was the one who wanted to be in his place, when he was the one who wanted what he had.

And that something was an adorable brunet who played on Seirin’s team.

Furihata Kouki wasn’t really someone he had envisioned himself gaining an interest in. In fact, he was probably the polar opposite of what he assumed his ‘type’ would be when the time came that he found that special person in his life.

He had only met him face to face twice, and that was during the Winter Cup, where he nearly scared the kid to death… both times. Any other time had been through his brother’s eyes, for after a large event, they had become close friends.

Two years ago was Kuroko’s surprise birthday. Many souls had gathered, including all of Seirin and all of the Generation of Miracles. It had been a remarkable event, and during the course of the evening they had sewn up their differences and any conflicts they may have had. Including him and Furihata, or should he say, Furihata and his brother.

He wasn’t the one present then; he hadn’t had control for a while. Only recently had his brother allowed them to switch in and out when he requested, and that had presented him with the opportunity to act upon what he desired.

For Akashi Seijuro was infatuated with Furihata Kouki. How did that come to be? He didn’t know nor was the impulse important. He didn’t recall when he had gained an interest, what had caused it, or even why. Those were meager questions compared to the dilemma he currently had. His brother and the shy brunet had become friends after the party, and it went strong from there. He had witnessed Kouki laugh, smile, and chat endlessly and happily about his hobbies.

But it was all through his brother’s eyes and never with him.

Surely that would change, no matter the consequences. He would not accept failure on this score.

 

 

* * *

 

Visiting his companion’s shop had become one of his past times, ever since Reo had graduated last year.

Following his dream, Mibuchi had opened a bakery a few months after leaving school. The shop had been successful, Reo’s treats a mouthwatering delight to even those who weren’t fond of sweets. He still played basketball every now and then, but most of his time was dedicated to running the business.

He missed the other's presence, missed having him to socialize with throughout the day and during practice. Reo was someone he could rely on, could confide his worries to, and someone who assured him he was making the correct decision when he experienced a bit of doubt.

And because of that, almost every day after practice was through, Akashi found himself wandering in to visit his former teammate.

“So.” He watched as Reo whisked together another recipe that would soon be placed out in the display case. “You’re going to hold a baking class? What for?”

Reo had been rushing back and forth more than his usual to prepare for what Seijuro had assumed was another birthday or catered event. But it had ended up being the complete opposite of what he had supposed.

Having been there for a few months now, Reo was trying to open up more to the public. Even though he was already well known already, Mibuchi had decided to add something unusual to his normal routine in the hope of reaching more customers.

The elder continued to smooth out his batter, quickly pouring it into the correct pan before turning to answer Seijuro’s inquiry.

“Well,” Reo informed him, “A lot of students are looking to take a baking class, but they have a difficult time with the ones held on campus, so I thought, why not me? The shop is large enough for a small class, and I can teach them simpler recipes instead of the fancy ones that other classes do. It’s good for beginners to get their feet wet.”

Akashi didn’t appear too impressed, his mismatched eyes matching his dull expression.

“I don’t really see the point. No one will be able to keep up with your level.”

Mibuchi laughed.

“Why thank you, Sei-chan! I take that as a compliment. But it’s not about being able to relate to me, but more so that they can learn to bake if they need it later on in life. Besides,” his nose wrinkled, “I think everyone has a little bit of interest in it somewhere in them.”

“Not I,” was the blunt response, “I have absolutely no desire to.”

Seijuro stepped away from the prep area, crossing over to where a bunch of papers lay. Curious, he fiddled with the first few and browsed them. Some were recipes, while others were requests Reo had received, and then his eyes caught onto something that he wasn’t expecting.

He snatched a paper from the pile, rapidly scanning down what he assumed was a roster.

“Reo.” He held up the piece of paper. “What is this list, and why is Kouki’s name on it?”

Placing the pan he’d completed in the oven, Reo returned to the crowded counter and began to clear away the remains. Brushing the flour off him, he dropped the soiled bowls and utensils in a sinkful of soapy water before deciding to answer his ex-captain.

“Oh, that?” He didn’t seem surprised. “That’s the signup sheet for the class.”

Akashi stared down at the roster, thoughts spiraling in his head and the wheels beginning to turn. Was it possible that this was the chance he had been waiting for? To finally gain some way to communicate with Furihata and not as his brother, but as him? The theory had potential, but there were still a few barriers hindering that from happening.

And one was standing in front of him.

“Reo, you have to put me in this class.”

Mibuchi frowned at the request. “What happened to having zero desire to bake?” he sighed, “Besides, no offense, Sei-chan, but you aren’t exactly… proficient when it comes to the kitchen.”

“Isn’t that why you’re teaching the class in the first place?” Akashi wasn’t perturbed by the fact he didn’t know the first thing about cooking. He had a vital reason to forge ahead, and he wouldn’t be discouraged by something so minor. “And what is there to know, anyway? That’s what the directions are for.”

Reo wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Sei-chan. This is really not your strong point.”

When it came to the culinary arts, Akashi was a disaster waiting to happen. His junior excelled in just about everything else, but when it came to cooking, he was all thumbs. He was lucky if he even knew the difference between powdered or granulated sugar. If he knew how to fold an egg, or that a cup was a unit on a measuring device and not the vessel you used for drinking.

He tried not to cringe at the visual.

“Don’t make me beg, Reo.” His tone was low, but his eyes told another tale. “You know that I’ve been trying to come up ways to get in touch with Kouki, and this would be the perfect chance rather than finding out each location he’s at and ‘bumping’ into him.”

Mibuchi rubbed at his face. He knew he shouldn’t give in, but he also knew he was going to have no choice in the matter. Akashi had a way of wrapping people around his finger, and he sadly was one of those individuals. No matter how much he tried, Seijuro always found a way to gain what he desired.

Not to mention, Seijuro would pester him until he caved, and he had plenty of experience dealing with that. And frankly, he had never been the victor in any of those contests.

“Fine,” he surrendered, “I’ll let you join the group.”

Akashi’s next expression was as though Christmas had come early. 

Oddly, that was the true reason he had devised the class in the first place, aside from the other myriad explanations. The holidays were upon them, and many students were rushing to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. Baking a small cake, or tree and reindeer shaped cookies seemed like an ideal option for many, and one that would be a gift truly from the heart.

But in Seijuro’s case, the end product would just be a cinderblock in someone’s stomach.

“I can’t help but think how much I’m going to regret this.”

 

 

* * *

 

Smoothing down his attire, Akashi reflected on his overall appearance, affirming to himself it would be well-received.

He had selected a shirt that was likely a favorite of Furihata's, given how he had complimented his brother before for wearing it on one of their outings. Everything else was tailored to his figure, sharp, but not overly formal. He didn't want to seem out of place with the mundane crop of students. That would surely unnerve his intended's delicate sensibilities, and he was bent on making the perfect first impression. Or, third impression, but the first since he had decided that Kouki was his future.

Seijuro had arrived early to the class to choose a prime workstation, one near the rear of the room so that Furihata and he might have the privacy to converse amongst themselves if all went according to plan. He had nothing but confidence in Reo's instruction, so he didn't think that seating them so far in the back would prove an issue with completing their assignments.

In fact, he was looking forward to it, for crafting the dishes together would build their teamwork, and bond them closer together.

Once he gained a handle on baking, he would even have the remarkable chance to impress Furihata with his newfound talents, which could ultimately gift him a segue in which to ask him out. Kouki already thought of them as friends, even if that happened to technically be his other self and not him, so a few well-chosen pushes should accomplish his goal. By the time the sessions had run their course, they would no doubt be-

A twinkling sound nudged him from his lightspeed thoughts, and he glanced up to see the shop door swinging open, the jingle bells attached to the handle swaying merrily from the intrusion.

And then his heart leapt into his throat.

A mane of chestnut brown popped through the entrance, and its wearer materialized, cheeks flushed from the glacial conditions outside and a tentative smile burdening his lips. Furihata's eyes surveyed the bakery's interior, as though trying to track down any of the other class-takers, or perhaps he was looking for Reo.

That would be sensible, Akashi mused, feeling his head grow fuzzy as various impulses overwhelmed him. Gradually, Kouki's gaze locked on Seijuro instead, and the expression he gave him set his pulse to galloping illogically fast.

His smile broadened familiarly. "Akashi-san, I didn't think I'd see you here. Are you visiting Mibuchi-san?"

"No, Kouki, I am attending this class. On baking. That it seems you are also attending. To learn how to bake, apparently. This workstation," he gestured at the table in front of him, "Would you want to share it with me? Since we are not strangers to one another. And I assume the other students will be. Strangers, I mean."

"Um." Furihata momentarily paused. "Yeah, that sounds okay. Uh…."

He moved closer to set down his belongings, and Seijuro observed hazel eyes swiveling sideways to appraise his own. Quickly, they retreated to the front. Beside him, he heard Kouki mouth his own name under his breath questioningly, and it was then that everything clicked into place.

Ah, perhaps he hadn't made such a smooth introduction after all.

No doubt Furihata sensed there was something different about him, and he was willing to bet he knew what was broadcasting through the other's brain currently. For he knew his brother had been incredibly openhanded with the details of their dual existence with his companion, down to some of the more notable changes that identified them.

He could only hope this wouldn't ruin his odds before he'd had a true shot at building their relationship.

Once everyone was seated, Reo began the introduction. He would have asked each other to say their own spiel, but he really wanted to get moving. Especially with a certain redhead in this class.

The first project was simple: cupcakes. How hard could that possibly be? The directions were clear, the ingredients laid out at each work station, and he would be nearby if anyone needed any assistance.

However, he wasn’t concerned about all of the groups, just one person in particular. And said person wasn’t even reading the instruction. He was studying Furihata across from him. And though Furihata hadn’t taken notice, the way Akashi kept shifting at the table was beginning to worry Mibuchi.

Something wasn’t settling right, and he was pretty sure it was his nerves.

Baking was supposed to be fun, but also a hobby to bond people together. And while Seijuro was certainly attempting to bond… with one person… he should have been tackling the assignment. Then again, why was Reo bothering to question it? He knew what the captain’s motives were and why he was here, so why was he assuming Akashi would care about anything else?

Then to his surprise, Seijuro peered down at the text before him. Whether he was actually reading it or pretending to take interest, Reo didn’t know. He had ceased staring at Kouki for the time being and was at least acknowledging he was in a baking class and not a staring contest.

Watching some more, his hope blossomed as Akashi turned from the directions to the foods before him, gathering some into his hands. Was he going to give it a go?

He then slowly began to drop the required ingredients for the assignment.

Right onto the floor. The mixing bowl lay a few inches ahead of him, bereft, and unscathed thanks to Seijuro’s moronic aim.

Mibuchi tried not to whine at the sight of Akashi engrossed by the Seirin player across the room, egg after egg being cracked against the counter and splattering onto the floor. He should have known; should have known this was going to happen.

But he let it proceed. Akashi then measured the flour in the unit device provided for them, though Reo was sure he wasn’t bothering to see if the amount was precise.

Moments after, that too ended up on the floor, Akashi’s focus on the occupied Furihata at his own bowl.

Reo watched with weary eyes as Kouki then put his tools down to go over to Seijuro’s station to assist him. He groaned. At least now things would go a bit more smoothly with the other male helping.

It couldn’t possibly get any worse than it was now.

***     *      *     * ***    *     *     *****

Nothing changed in the following weeks. If anything, Reo could say it had gotten progressively worse. Or more so, he’d gotten tangled up in more disasters than he’d ever imagined.

And one individual was responsible for the ruckus.

Gazing wearily from his stand, he watched as Seijuro dropped half of the ingredients on the floor and some into the actual bowl. Actually, it was by a stroke of luck or the way Akashi shifted at his seat if _any_ of the contents made it into the bowl. Most either landed on the counter or garnished the tile flooring that he would spend numerous hours scrubbing afterwards.

With how things had been coming along, Reo wondered if Akashi even read the directions before him. From what he had seen, it seemed he was just grabbing random ingredients and lobbing them in… whether they were part of the recipe or not. Usually they were since it was Reo’s job to put them on the table before they began. But somehow, Akashi had managed to get other substances mixed in.

Why had he agreed to this, again? He knew there was not a single smidgen of interest in Akashi when it came to baking. His entire focus was on Furihata, and Reo’s passion was used as nothing but a pawn in the Rakuzan captain’s scheme.

He was so easily swayed it disgusted him.

His gaze switched from the dunce he called his close companion to the brunet who Akashi was enamored with. At least _he_ was paying attention, and if Reo had to say, seemed to be very engaged in the project. So maybe something good came from everything after all.

A loud clang interrupted his musings, and he snapped his head to witness Akashi knocking everything to the floor. He stood there with the clutter at his feet, completely oblivious as others gawked on, and smiled charmingly at Kouki who had rushed over to assist him.

“No,” Reo mumbled to no one but himself, “ _Nothing_ good is coming out of this. Nothing at all.”

  

* * *

 

There had only been a few occasions in his life that Akashi had been confronted with the vision of one, Mibuchi Reo, with hands planted firmly on hips and a stern expression in tow.

Typically the cause of such a vengeful appearance had been the misdeeds of one of their rambunctious - or in certain cases, quiet yet abrasive - teammates that his vice-captain had wished to inform him of. He would listen to Reo vent, craft some suitable punishment to deliver to the offending party, and the matter would soon be settled with himself no worse for the wear. But unfortunately, that wouldn't be how this encounter would finish; that Seijuro was well aware of. For this time, it was his own errors that were about to be put to light.

And he swiftly needed to think of how to counteract the charges.

"Sei-chan, I don't think this is working out," his friend cut in bluntly. 

Akashi winced at the unshakable authority in his tone.

"On the contrary, I believe I have made great strides in learning how to bake. I know far more about it than I did before I entered the class, all thanks to your fine-"

Reo echoed a weary sigh, inky eyebrows drawing together in frustration.

"No, no you have not," he interrupted. "You have made 'great strides' at destroying my kitchen, but that's about all."

"I apologize for any-"

"Save it! I love you Sei-chan, but you can't be in this class anymore. You even burned the countersand created a giant hole in them, which I didn't think was possible! I'm very sorry, but it's clear that cooking is not your forte, and I don't really want any more casualties around here."

On the other end of the scolding, Seijuro was floundering, listening in mounting horror as his plans were being dashed. There was no way he could permit this failure; the class had been a convenient medium for Kouki's and his relationship to foster into something closer, for him to slowly captivate Kouki's heart - he hoped. If he was expelled from it, that would mean devising some other means of having regular interaction with his intended, and frankly, he had no ideas on that score.

Their bond was fledgling at best right now, and needed constant tending to for it to continue to grow. It still couldn't surpass the one Furihata held with his other self, and it probably wasn't enough for him to ask to spend additional time with him if it wasn't related to something practical, like for the lessons. No, Akashi needed this arrangement preserved for a while longer, and as much as he detested quarreling with companions, Reo was going to have to be made to understand his plight.

"I know I have not been an exemplary pupil, Reo, but I beseech you to reconsider. I am growing ever closer to Kouki through this class, and I know I can do it if you would simply-"

"Is **THAT** what this is all about?!" Akashi hung his head at the outburst, a smidgen of shame dawning upon him. But not quite enough to make him regret or rescind his plea. "You'll destroy everything before he agrees to go out with you. Please, now I'm begging you, find somewhere else to do your flirting, Sei-chan. Leave my bakery alone!"

Turquoise eyes trained on him for a few more moments, until they were satisfied that their wearer's declaration had sunken in. Seijuro remained obediently silent, actively playing the part of penitent student as he watched the older male dart around the room, his motions harried as though he'd lost the train of thought he needed to proceed.

Eventually he had to question the spastic moving-about.

"Is there something you're searching for?"

"Ugh, no, I'm just not sure where to begin with this clutter, and I really wanted to be out of here soon. We're going over to his parents' place for a late dinner, and while they won't mind, I hate making someone wait on me. Whether I'm the guest or the host, it's rude," Mibuchi labored on, hands twitching to tidy some of the class' mess.

In a flash, the intelligent thought that Seijuro was sure had abandoned him returned, giving him an excellent suggestion to put forth.

"Reo, go and enjoy your evening. The least I can do is clean this for you, by way of apology."

Just as lightning fast, Reo eyeballed him with cutting skepticism.

Not that he could blame him, given his cooking expeditions had wreaked the majority of the havoc that had rendered the room this way. Despite that, Akashi was determined to forge ahead, for he had a brilliant plan in mind that would not fail. Step one of it involved obtaining the privacy to carry it out, and in doing so, he could actually do something nice for his companion. Even if it involved a little deception, Reo would surely understand in the end. And a sparkling clean kitchen would no doubt help with clinching his goodwill.

"I am going to..." Mibuchi paused, mouth vacillating between a neutral cast and a frown, "go grab my coat before I can convince myself this is a terrible idea."

Seijuro barked out a false laugh, keeping his facial features well controlled.

"I assure you, when you come in the morning, you'll be pleased at my progress. It will look even better than before we had our session today."

"If you say so," Reo quipped anxiously, "Well, goodnight then, Sei-chan. Lock up when you leave, all right?"

The door then closed behind him, leaving Akashi alone in the vast, if warmly-appointed kitchen. Peering around, he noticed the many ingredients he had yet to return to their proper storage.

Coincidentally, they comprised most of what he required to create what he had in mind. If he had any little shred of doubt beforehand, it diminished with each step he took toward the counters. Surely it must have been meant to be if the ingredients were laid out for him so prominently.

Fate had in mind that not only would be able to prove to Reo otherwise, but he would be able to make something special for Kouki as well.

After checking to assure he was the sole occupant in the bakery, Akashi set to his task. He moved what was laid out to one of the larger counters, carefully placing the supplies next to a heavy bowl. There was something missing, though.

He mulled over what he had seen the chefs in the manor use when they prepped for one of his father’s mundane business meetings. They were always preparing over the top meals, especially when it came to clients on their level, as his father would never allow anything but the finest cuisine to be served under their roof. It was their inspiration he would be needing tonight.

Gathering several of Reo’s cookbooks, he scanned through numerous cakes, searching frantically for the correct one. They were all delectable and imaginative, he’d give them that - but none of them were anything like what he had in mind. This had to be something different, something special, something unique.

Something as entirely perfect and singular as Kouki himself.

At length, Akashi tossed the books to a vacant corner of the room. He didn’t need them. He knew exactly what would be fit for Kouki. It wasn’t going to be anything pictured in Reo’s cookbooks, or anything they had in other bakeries, or anything he had seen online. No, this was going to be all his creation. And if that were the case, then he would have to be the one to complete it.

Without any assistance.

 

* * *

As he turned the key in the lock the next morning, Reo found it already open. Dread instantly set in, and he found himself rushing through the shop to check for anything out of the ordinary. The bakery itself seemed to be okay. Nothing was broken, nothing had been tampered with or stolen, so that was a sigh of relief for him. Perhaps Seijuro hadn’t locked up properly after he promised to last night.

Shouldn’t have surprised him, really.

But when he caught sight of a light shining in the kitchen, that terror instantly returned. Reo rushed through the double doors, expecting to encounter a group of robbers or something of the sort. Who would break into a bakery though? There really was nothing there, and he made a point of taking his profits home so they kept safe from any mishaps.

So when he found Akashi Seijuro half asleep on the floor and covered in flour, he no longer had to question anything.

Ignoring at the ruins his kitchen had devolved to, he went to shake the zoned out boy. Akashi jostled slightly, gracing him with a blank stare before he turned his attention to the one beside him, a small smile gracing his powdered face.

“Reo. I did it.” He sounded proud, even though he was ready to keel over. “I made something for Kouki.”

Mibuchi peered around, trying not to cringe at the scene. “You made something, all right….”

There were still eggshells on the counter, yolk dribbling over the edges down to the floor. Whatever flour wasn’t on Akashi decorated the stove, the counter, and for some bizarre reason, it was smeared all over the fridge and microwave that stood on the other side of the room, nowhere near the soiled area. There were bowls left out, the remaining batter and icing stuck to the countertop and only adding to the disaster.

And that was only the beginning.

“Sei-chan.” His tone was oddly calm. “What happened to cleaning up after the class and then leaving?”

Akashi barely felt the hand brushing flour out of his hair. He was far too exhausted, far too out of it to realize what was transpiring before him. Yet he understood the question, though he wasn’t sure how Reo would react to the answer.

“I wanted to make something for Kouki.” His mismatched, foggy eyes fixed on Mibuchi, and narrowed. “And also prove to you that I could do it.”

“Sei-chan,” he chided as though lecturing a child, “You didn’t have to go through all this to prove it to me, and I would have gladly helped you make something special.”

Struggling momentarily, Akashi began to rise from the floor. He was a bit wobbly at first as he lacked sleep and had been creating all night, but he managed to finally steady himself. He brushed the remnants of flour and powder from his clothes, using the counter’s edge to keep him upright.

“It doesn’t matter. I did it, didn’t I? And now I will give it to Kouki when I see him.”

Their discussion discontinued. Then, as promised, he helped Reo clean the area, leaving it sparkling right on time for the class. Reo took one glance at his former teammate and shook his head at the display. The shaggy bedhead, the wrinkled clothes with white still clinging to the threads, the saddlebags under those mismatched eyes.

All of them screamed desperation, if not, ‘I need sleep.’

“Sei-chan, you should head back and shower… maybe get some rest. It’ll be okay if you miss the class tod-”

But Akashi quickly shook his head before he could finish his sentence

“No,” he rejected, “I’ll be fine. I’ll clean myself up and make myself presentable. I’ll rest after the class is through.”

Gracing him with a look of doubt, Reo grimaced. He knew Seijuro was doing everything to gain Furihata's attention, but now he was wondering if he was going a bit overboard. He had already destroyed his appearance, not to mention Reo’s kitchen… and he was almost afraid to see what creation was nestled in the box sitting on the sole counter that hadn’t been affected.

“You should do pairs today, Reo.” Leave it to Akashi to interrupt his musing with a random suggestion. “For the final assignment.”

Up until now, they had worked alone. But given the last recipe would be the largest and most difficult in the class, it actually wasn’t a bad idea. Though he knew there was a reason… a biased reason behind it… Reo found himself reluctantly agreeing.

“Yes, yes,” he consented, though not really, “And I already know who you want to be paired with.”

After all, how bad could it _possibly_ be?

***     *      *     * ***    *     *     *****

Once the pairs were sorted, Reo peered over the original assignment he had selected long before Akashi had hounded him with his request. There was no point in that, now since it was meant to be a single assignment in the first place. With a sigh, he tossed it aside and quickly scanned through toward the end of the cookbook until he picked out a dessert that he hoped Seijuro wouldn’t destroy the shop with. Even though he was certain such an option didn’t exist.

Discarding his annoyance, he watched Akashi ogling Furihata from the corner workstation they were occupying. Undeniably not paying attention, and causing his anxiety to skyrocket. Why had he agreed to this again? He should have known by now this was going to end in utter and complete mayhem, and yet he had once again buckled under Akashi’s persuasion.

To think by now he would have gained the tolerance to not cave to him so easily. How foolish of him to assume so.

“Please turn to page fifty-eight. There you’ll see a recipe. Profiteroles au Chocolat. Or for short, they’re creampuffs.” His vivid eyes scanned the many sets gazing back at him. “I have already preheated the ovens, so please set to work as quick as possible. This will be your final assignment, but please don’t stress over it. This is something for fun, so enjoy it!”

The class then commenced, and he reclined back, his gaze honed on one particular duo.

Akashi was featherheaded. Rather than participating, his attention was devoted to the one beside him who was actually following the assignment. He could only count the seconds before his former captain instigated his next screw up, or worse, until the next crater in his precious bakery appeared.

And yet, Reo kept letting him try.

Maybe he was a romantic at heart, maybe he found Akashi’s determination inspiring, or maybe he was just an idiot that let himself get wrapped around his close friend’s finger. Either way, he had complied and allowed Akashi what he desired. For almost a month now. He couldn’t have wanted to pat himself on the back more than he did now for deciding to hold the class once a week and not more frequently.

If it had been more than those required sessions, his bakery would have been in shambles long ago.

Never did he think Seijuro would become infatuated with someone who was causing him to act the complete opposite of who he was. Composed, stoic, and skilled with everything. But this Akashi? There were no words to describe the behavior Reo had witnessed in the past month. And he didn’t want to bother trying. The experience and the result of dealing with it was plenty.

Distracted by his musings, he didn’t realize how much time had passed. He chanced a glance over at the two, surprised to find the station intact. Seijuro hadn’t destroyed anything, there weren’t any contents splattered on the counter, and if he had to say, his companion was actually paying somewhat attention.

Reo had to admit he was impressed, and had a difficult time in stating he had been erroneous. Perhaps pairing them off hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. Their assignment seemed to be coming along well, though he was sure it was mostly Furihata pulling the weight and Akashi off to the side. But at least it wasn’t ending up like the other four classes.

That was, until they got to the cream part.

As he awaited his next set of instructions, Seijuro leaned against their workstation, unabashedly staring at the object of his affection. His gaze was glazed over with sentiment, eyes swishing this way and that as Kouki juggled his portion of the ingredients, carefully measuring them into the mixing bowl. Kouki's actions were heedful as always, following each direction to the letter.

Not that much longer, and he'd get to witness the unguarded expression on his face when he confessed. 

Seijuro was greatly looking forward to it, so much so that the lesson of the day was a mere backdrop for his inner ponderances. He couldn't have cared less about his conduct or about learning how to craft the final dish of the seminar; the only thing that mattered was the moment when they walked out together and he presented Kouki with his gift and of course, with his love.

"Akashi-san, can you do the stirring? It says to turn the mixer to-"

Smiling obligingly, Seijuro turned to the appliance laid out beside him, taking the bowl from his partner and combining the two units together.

His finger hovered over the power switch, and as it pushed upwards, he found his attention fully diverted by the sight of Furihata stretching. Arms extended over his head, pulling on each other to work out the kinks, and inadvertently caused the hem of his shirt to lift up. A few blessed inches of creamy skin were revealed to his view, and before he knew it, his hand moved on its own.

Metallic buzzing rent the air, and then the thin strip his eyes were glued to, as well as the rest of Kouki's front became decorated with globs of batter, the mixture exploding forth from its container and covering him with the fallout. The mixer continued its wailing even as the two of them blinked helplessly, the reality of it not quite setting in yet.

Until finally, Seijuro gained the presence of mind to leap forward, yanking the cord from its outlet.

But the damage was done.

He looked on in horror as Kouki's face blanched, his hands lowering to grasp at his ruined outfit. A woeful look crept onto his lips that broke Seijuro's heart into a thousand shards. And it was his mindless error that had caused this. If he had been paying proper attention to his surroundings then he wouldn't have caused his beloved the embarrassment he was clearly wallowing in now.

"I… um…." Furihata's voice was timorous, quiet, and seared into his soul. "I'm g-going home."

And then the other was darting past him, out of the bakery and into the cold before Seijuro could summon a single word of protest.

Yet in a flash of clarity, the second he vanished from view, Akashi knew what he had to do.

Scrambling for the box he’d secretly stored on one of the shelves beneath his half of the workstation, he retrieved it. With it securely in tow, he made a break for the front entrance, ignoring the nosy glances of the others in the class, and Reo’s more alarmed one. He could only pray that he wouldn’t be too far behind, or that Furihata would somehow slow down to allow him to catch up.

Lungs burning from the exertion, he sped down the main road, eyes roaming the surroundings. The street was sparsely populated, and in no time he spotted a familiar mane a block in front of him, shuffling aimlessly away from disaster.

"Kouki!" he yelled, again, unaffected to the attention he was drawing. He didn't care, and nothing could make him care about anything that wasn't the man before him right then. “Wait a second!”

Furihata revolved to face him, hesitant and poignantly mortified, standing there still coated in batter. His wobbly expression trampled over Seijuro’s heart unmercifully. All he could think in the moment was how he’d planned this time so perfectly, how anxious he’d been, ready to confess, and in a single moment he’d managed to fumble that chance away.

“Kouki.” He panted, taking the moment to catch his breath. “I am so sorry for that. I regret to say I wasn’t paying attention, and it was entirely my fault this happened to you.”

Silence stretched between them as Kouki continued to try to compose himself. His clothes weren’t the only parts that had met with a mishap. Thick cream dribbled from the strands of his messy hair, adding to the mess already decorating his attire. Remarkable as it was though, he managed to pull himself together to reply, choosing a soft, reluctant tone that only amplified the other’s pulse.

“It’s okay, Akashi-san. Accidents happen.” He smiled falsely, though he wanted to do nothing but crawl in a hole. “I just didn’t want to sit there like…” He paused to laugh weakly. “Well, like this.”

Seijuro berated himself internally at having not grabbed a towel before he fled the shop. The other male was in complete ruins, standing in the cold and dripping wet. He hadn’t even grabbed his coat to offer to Kouki, having been in such a rush to chase after him.

He could only hope Reo had the proper cleaning equipment when he returned to the shop.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Kouki.” Akashi’s head lowered. Everything had played out the exact opposite. “In fact, this was the last thing I wanted to happen.”

Furihata shrugged, causing more debris to slough off of him. Seijuro didn’t question or nudge him into conversation. He had every right to feel that way, especially after being humiliated in front of a class full of strangers.

“No, Kouki. You don’t understand. This wasn’t how I pictured everything. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Not anything like this.”

The declaration elicited a bewildered glance from his companion. Akashi bent to retrieve the box he had let rest at his feet. It wasn’t going to take away the damage that had been done, but he hoped at least this part of the plan would proceed the way he had envisioned.

“Maybe this will explain it better.”

He then handed Kouki the box, garnering another round of confusion. Akashi was aware of how delicate the situation was, but he was finding the puzzlement on the other’s face absolutely adorable. He prayed that would shift into something else when he unwrapped his gift.

“Merry Christmas, Kouki,” he muttered, “I hope you like it.”

Flushing at the gesture, Kouki began to undo the ribbon until he was able to lift the lid. Inside was a somewhat nicely decorated cake with the phase “Will You Go Out With Me?” scrawled upon the surface.

 

And his answer?

 

 

  


 

 

Following this, they shared Akashi’s gift, but sadly got food poisoning because really, Akashi couldn’t cook even if his life depended on it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Adorable chibis by [Bree Bree <3](http://breedafool.tumblr.com/)
> 
> See you in 2016!


End file.
